Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. A little table covered with a damask cloth was dragged out. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. No wonder we are anxious that nothing should happen to make him change his mind. ” She stated boldly. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. Mr. S.
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